Revenge
by Thalion King's Daughter
Summary: In the wake of the White Armor Ball, a slighted warrior takes his revenge on the kings of Narnia. But things are not always what they seem...
1. In the Shadows

The halls of the castle were dark and empty. A few torches flickered and sighed, casting strange shadows in the many-pillared hall. It was late in the night; dawn was only a few hours off. Two guards stood at either end of the hall, both leaning on their spears rather than standing at attention. Aside from them, the hall seemed deserted, but in the shadows, someone waited. That he was tall was clear, but no other feature of the waiting person could be distinguished from the shadows. A long black cloak wrapped around him and concealed his features from view.

The shadow that was a man looked up at the window at the end of the hall, carefully gauging the time. There should be enough for him to carry out his plan before the castle began to stir. He spared a swift glance for the guard at the further end of the hall. He would be no problem tonight; by the time he heard anything, it would be too late. No, it was the nearer guard that he must take care of first. There was a faint gleam of teeth as the stranger smiled. He knew the guard. It would not be hard to insure his silence.

Swiftly, the cloaked man darted from the concealing shadows and past the betraying light. The guard had no warning before a strong hand clamped down on his mouth and a low voice whispered, "Be still." All thought of resistance was quelled at the threat in those two words and the guard relaxed, still but wary. A moment later, he felt something being pressed into his hand and smiled. An exchange was made and the stranger disappeared down the hall toward the sleeping quarters. There would be no alarm from that guard tonight.

No one noticed as a door was silently slid open. No one noticed a slight figure slip into the room. No one noticed the figure steal softly up to the bed and stare down at the sleeper. His fair hair was tousled from sleep and one strong arm lay across the covers while hints of a smile played across the corners of his mouth. There was a gleam of teeth as the stranger smiled as well and slid out something long and narrow that caught the light from the dying fire. He paused for a moment and drew back from the bed as the sleeper stirred and shifted, further tangling himself in the covers. When his target was still again, he sighted the perfect spot that would cause the least noise and do the work fastest. The metal gleamed as he brought it up and drove it low so that it imbedded in its target with scarcely a sound. The sleeper jerked and then went still.


	2. Double Trouble

Precious seconds passed as the cloaked man pulled out four more narrow hooks of metal and jammed them into cracks in the bed frame. When they were settled to his satisfaction, he grabbed a coil of thin rope from his belt and looped it from one hook to the next. He did the same to the second bed where a dark-haired boy slept deeply, snoring softly. Cautiously, he tossed the free end of the rope over the top of the canopy frame, catching it before it dropped to the bed. Moments later, a pulley of sorts had been erected on both beds. He had scarcely finished when a soft click sounded behind him. In an instant, the stranger had hidden himself in the shadows of the bed curtains and was watching the door with wary readiness.

The door opened silently and a second figure entered the room. This one was smaller and appeared to be carrying two wineskins. The first person relaxed as the second person shut the door softly behind them and turned toward the bed. Silently, the first strode across the room and took the skins from the other.

"So you were successful?" he murmured.

"Of course," the second person replied in an equally quiet tone. "Didn't I promise you?"

"You did, but you never know. Your timing is perfect. I was just ready for you."

A third coil of rope was produced and the two worked in silence together looping the wineskins carefully onto the ropes and suspending them above the beds.

"Is the door rigged?" the taller of the two asked.

"Perfectly. Make sure to jump when you run. The others have already taken care of the rest."

"Understood." He glanced at the windows where heavy curtains blocked the picture of a peaceful winter night. Peace that they were about to shatter. "To your place."

The two settled themselves between the beds, each grasping the ends of the rope. The shorter of the two counted with his fingers, holding out his hand so that the taller could follow along. One. Two. Three…

"Now!"

They pulled the ropes.


	3. A Rude Awakening

Thus it was that on the first day of the month of Nor'Wind, just over a week after Christmas, High King Peter and King Edmund of Narnia received a very wet, very abrupt, and very rude awakening.

The two waterskins hanging above their beds burst open emptying their contents on the yet sleeping kings. Peter snapped awake with a strangled yell, trying to jerk upright only to find that he was tied down. In the other bed, Edmund woke up—probably faster than he ever had in his life—roaring in fury, only to encounter the same restraints. Seconds later, both yell and roar were silenced by the slap of wet leather as the ripped skins fell right on the heads of the two kings. There was a whoop as both conspirators leaped in the air, darting from between the beds before either king could retaliate.

"Good morning!" crowed Jaerin gleefully once he was out of range of any dangerous (and potentially lethal--if the kings did not have a chance to see who had done what to them) actions on the part of the kings.

"Good morning?" Peter spluttered tearing the wet leather from his head. "Its not morning! And its certainly not good."

"It is for us. I have high hopes for the rest of the day being equally good." was Jaerin's cheeky reply.

An incoherent growl came from the bed where Edmund was steadily ripping the ropes that bound him to the bed from their fastenings. Peter was also nearly free.

"Erm, Jaerin? Time to go," Jaer said and sprinted for the door.

"Right. See you later!" Jaerin darted after his brother, jumping over the narrow rope that stretched across the now-open doorway.

The kings were not so lucky. Still befuddled by sleep, neither Peter nor Edmund grasped the significance of their friends' small leap and both tripped over the rope and went sprawling into the hall. Something soft but heavy fell on their backs (or rather on Edmund's back—he was splayed out over his brother) and a cloud of flour rose into the air. Coughing and spitting, the two boys scrambled to their feet. Both were covered in the fine powder.

"_Jaerin_!" roared the kings.

The boy in question lingered at the far end of the hall, just around the corner, laughing in delight at the success of his scheme. His older brother was safer distance away, watching him watching them. Jaerin's glee turned to half-fear as Kings Peter and Edmund spotted him and set off at full speed (slightly less than normal but a cold bath does wonders for quick waking). Yelping, Jaerin turned and ran after his brother who had wisely vacated the area.

A merry chase ensued in which half the castle was wakened and Jaer and Jaerin only just managed to keep ahead of their justifiably angry kings. Finally, the two kings managed to put their greater knowledge of Cair Paravel's layout to good use and trapped the two brothers in a corner.

"What is the meaning of this…this outrage?" Peter demanded. Of course the indignant words and tone were rather marred by the fact that he was standing there in naught but his soggy, flour-coated night clothes and his hair kept dripping in his eyes.

"Outrage?" Jaerin asked innocently. "Whatever do you mean? Your looks are quite improved, I dare say. Would you like another flour bath tomorrow morning?"

That was the wrong thing to say.


	4. Punishment Befitting the Crime

With an inarticulate roar of fury, Peter abandoned all pretence at dignity and launched himself at Jaerin. Jaer, of course, could not stand by and let his brother be so assaulted and joined the fray. Seconds later, all the air was forced from his lungs as Edmund landed squarely on his back. The four boys became a wild tangle of arms and legs as they wrestled for control, shouting, and hooting all the while.

As the oldest and largest (he was one year and eight months older than Jaer and a good two inches taller), Peter had the advantage but Jaer made up in sheer stubbornness what he lacked in size. For his part Edmund was hard pressed to get a solid grasp on Jaerin as the younger boy wriggled out of almost every hold.

Before long, however, the Peridanson brothers found themselves outmatched in the Pevensie brothers. Peter secured Jaer in a headlock while Edmund had Jaerin practically tied in knots, pinning the younger boy on his stomach and sitting on his hands clamped down on his back.

"What do we do with them?" Edmund gasped.

"I don't know. What punishment would befit the crime?" Peter paused. "Wait, d'you think Silvo and Martil have drawn the baths yet?"

"Peter! It's _midnight_! No they haven't drawn the baths."

"Actually, its probably closer to four in the morning," Jaerin supplied helpfully. "It was three when we started setting things up."

"Quiet, Jaerin. You're not helping," Jaer hissed. His voice was somewhat muffled by Peter's arm.

"Good point. But wh…The conservatory! There's water enough there in the little pond."

Edmund's eyes glittered dangerously. "The punishment fits the crime. To the conservatory!"

It was really an odd sight to those who were awake to see it. Peter had collared Jaer and pinned one arm behind his back; Edmund had both of Jaerin's hands in his and steered the younger boy from behind. Both kings were still sopping wet, leaving trails of water and flour paste behind them. Jaer and Jaerin too were splattered with the paste and somewhat wet—evidence of their unsuccessful fight with the kings.

Had Peter and Edmund been somewhat more awake, they probably would have found Jaer and Jaerin's lack of resistance suspicious. They might also have realized that, as brothers, Jaer and Jaerin had ways of communicating without words. As it was, it did not occur to them to wonder why the two boys allowed themselves to be quietly marched along the halls toward the conservatory.

So it came to pass that when Peter and Edmund reached the conservatory with their prisoners, they found that their punishment backfired. When the persons you are attempting to throw into a pond are nearly your own size, it often happens that you also end up in the water. Such was the case now. Peter and Edmund shoved their prisoners forward toward the shallow pond only to have Jaer and Jaerin grab their wrists and cling for dear life. For a moment, the two pairs teetered on the edge of the pond—the Pevensie brothers trying to get away from the water and the Peridanson brothers pulling them toward it—and then with a terrific splash all four crashed into the waist deep pool.

Upon emerging, the wrestling match began again, this time with the added benefit of great splashes of water. And then…

"Wolfsbane, How, Peridanson! What is the meaning of this?"

* * *

_A/N—Thanks for all your lovely reviews! I'm glad I can keep you laughing. I'd reply to all but I had to start work again and have not the time. Thanks!_


	5. Caught in the Act

Orieus shout cut through the din and all four boys froze. Behind the centaur general, the other three swordmasters of Narnia stood glaring down at the rowdy bunch. Peter had Jaerin's arms pinned behind him; Jaer was seated on Edmund, their heads barely sticking out of the water. Jaer and Jaerin looked at each other for the briefest instant and then simultaneously pointed at the elder king.

"Peter!"

"He started it!" Jaerin added.

"I did not!" Peter howled indignantly. "Who put buckets of water over my bed? Who tied me into my bed? Who put flour over the door so that we both got coated? Who woke me at four in the morning!?"

"Umm…Jaer?" Jaerin suggested hopefully.

"It was your idea! And you did the flour."

"So because it was my idea it's my fault? Who was it that rousted us out of bed at an insane hour on Christmas eve? Who got us both drilled by half the army and laughed? I didn't do anything to deserve that!"

"If you are going to properly assign blame," Orieus said, a half smile forcibly hidden behind a stern glare, "you should remember that it was I who awakened you and that these two are not the only ones whose idea it was to test you both in such a manner. Besides," here the general's eyes twinkled. "I do believe that your brother had some part in the fact that you were wakened."

"Oh I know." Jaerin grinned. "I haven't forgotten _that_. Any more than I forgot that you were the first one to wake me up."

Jaer popped out of the water abruptly, allowing Edmund to do the same. "Jaerin what did you _do_?"

Jaerin smiled. The type of smile that means a boy is up to no good. "Oh. You'll see."

Oreius frowned. "Perhaps so. But since you are all up…Weapons and armor and to the training grounds in fifteen minutes. Hair and clothes must be dry. Go!"

"_Jaerin_!" was the collective cry as the four boys bolted off.

"What?" was the indignant reply.

Peridan smiled as they disappeared. "Boys. It is good to see them play."

"Yes," Celer replied. "Your boys have been good for the kings. They can be to serious for children."

"What do you think Jaerin meant? When he said he had not forgotten who woke him up." Kanell said thoughtfully.

"It matters little. He cannot do much. Come. To the training grounds. We have some boys to beat some sense into."

Oreius had no idea how wrong he was.


	6. Unintended and Intended

The four swordmasters took their time getting to the King's Yard. After all, they did have to plan exactly what they were going to do to the four miscreants. Thus it came about that Oreius was looking back over his shoulder at Kanell and Peridan and Celer were also not paying much attention to the path ahead when they entered the courtyard. That was the second mistake (the first was ignoring Jaerin's hints of further disaster). The good general had scarcely walked five steps before his hooves skidded. He recovered and kept walking. That was the third mistake. Within moments, he was skidding and slipping, searching for footing (hoofing?) on the surprisingly icy ground. The others fared little better.

And so, when Peter, Edmund, Jaer, and Jaerin arrived at the King's Yard precisely fifteen minutes and twenty seven seconds after their abrupt dismissal, they found the four swordmasters of Narnia in an inelegant heap on the ground. Peridan was on top—as a human he had slightly better footing than his hoofed companions. All four boys gaped.

"Did you do that, Jaerin?" Edmund asked.

Jaerin shook his head, awe stamped on his face. "No. But I wish I had." He looked again at the rather angry faces of the swordmasters. "Then again, maybe it's a good thing I didn't."

Edmund snorted. "Yeah. You wouldn't be able to move fast enough if they thought you were responsible."

"What do we do now?" Jaer whispered.

"Help them," Peter, ever the noble one, said. "Come on. Maybe they'll go easy on us if we do."

They did not. After much more slipping and sliding, the four boys managed to help the four men get off the broad ice patch that coated half the courtyard. (It was later discovered that the ice was the result of two centaurs who had been carrying water barrels to the barracks when they hit an ice patch, slipped, and dropped the barrels. The barrels promptly shattered and the centaurs, annoyed, picked up the pieces and ignored the water.) Peridan, Oreius, Kanell, and Celer then proceeded to attack Peter, Edmund, Jaer, and Jaerin with great vigor, not letting up on them for an instant. If they had enough energy to be chasing each other around the Cair and wrestling in the conservatory, Celer said, they had enough for this.

Incidentally, it was at this time that the move the boys later designed, perfected and dubbed "The Lion's Might" had its roots. The four boys were fighting back to back and side to side against the swordmasters when, somehow, Jaer and Jaerin slipped and twisted, trading places. Edmund lost his shield about the same time and, without thinking, snatched the sword from Jaer's loosened grip. After some fumbling, Jaer managed to grab another sword and abandoned his own shield. Somehow, the boys managed to keep from being "killed" during this debacle—possibly because their opponents were too busy laughing.

After an hour of steady fighting, when the boys could barely lift their arms, Oreius ordered them all on a run to the Queen's Pavilion atop the highest tower of Cair Paravel. It was more of a crawl before they had gone five flights (Jaer always maintained that Peter only won because he was tallest and could thus reach further on his final lunge. Peter, of course, denied this). This, they thought, would discourage any more late night pranking. Perhaps it did. What it did not do was disrupt Jaerin's plans for the rest of the day. For those did not entirely depend on him.

No one could ever quite figure out exactly how Jaerin managed to get a harmless purple dye in Xati and Kanell's wine (their teeth and lips were purple for a week), ensure that the cakes that Sir Giles Fox ate at tea were liberally seasoned with pepper (the poor fox was sneezing all afternoon), plant stones and other hard objects in Celer's bed (he only thought he liked a hard bed), steal all the covers in Orieus' bedroom (and hide all the rest so he had to come from the barracks to the castle to find blankets), slip salt into Peridan's tea (that was slightly more expected) and sundry other odd things that happened throughout that day. Had they thought to ask the wives of Peridan and Giles, or any of the various Creatures and Animals in charge of keeping the barracks clean, they might have had their answer. Certainly Jaerin never told.

As for Jaer, he was extremely cautions for the next several weeks, checking his bed, his clothes, his books, his music, his instrument, his weapons, for any sign of tampering before venturing to use them. But nothing happened. At least, nothing more than Jaerin laughing hysterically at his brother's unneeded caution. Because his prank on his brother was to simply do nothing. It worked.

And so, all returned to normal at the castle of Cair Paravel.

Until Jaerin's clothes disappeared.

_A/N—I leave it to you, dear readers, to imagine what happens next. For this story ends here. It is already two full chapters longer than I originally wrote it (the story used to jump from Jaer's "What did you do?" to the list of pranks Jaerin pulled. Thank you all for your hilarious reviews. I have enjoyed reading them! Know that they spurred me on to write more._

_I've had bits of it written for a different setting for a while but when Jaerin was woken at that insane hour in for Christmas Eve training and received naught but a batch of bruises, I decided that he should have his revenge. His prank on Celer is one my own brothers actually pulled on each other. My younger brother ("Rett") dumped Risk pieces in my older brother's ("Matt") bed one night. I think that "Rett" had the saltiest water ever the next day. Though, my memory may be faulty—it might have been the other way around…_

_Have a glorious New Year!_


End file.
